Broken Promises
by badwolf0924
Summary: HLV alternate. When Mary Watson is threatened by a professional DBag (charles augustus magnussen) what happens when she doesn't comply with his demands? Will John be able to forgive her for her lies and will Sherlock be able to protect her? A prequel to my other story Of Doctor's and Detective's, though you don't need to read that one first! I don't know what to rate, so i rate T.
1. Chapter 1

**Ok, so as per my previous story, Of Doctors and Detectives, I thought it would be interesting to do a sort of... prequel?**

**Right before Moriarty came back... But to explain more about the Mary thing, so if you haven't read my other story, fear not, for this is a before thing. You don't need to read that one to understand this one. But you could read my other one after, to give you all the feels.**

**I also have the breaks between scenes as like, binary or something... Idk it was all I could come up with!**

**ALL THE FEELS!**

"Mary Watson." A mans voice said, the blonde turned to look at him. He was tall, thin, he had on thin wire-frame glasses that did nothing to mask the boldness of his eyes. He was terrifying, but nothing she couldn't handle.

"Yes? Why did you send me this?" She held out a letter. A letter that gave her specific instructions to meet him in the dead restaurant she was currently sitting in. The man smirked and sat across from her, picking up half of the sandwich she was currently too nervous to actually eat. As he took a bite, Mary's breathing hitched, it was obvious this man was dangerous, but in what way she didn't know. She cleared her throat, looking around for signs of someone she knew, "How do you know so much about my past? The people I've... Taken care of..." She was hardly able to speak the last few words.

"Oh Mrs. Watson... You're naive if you think that your records were destroyed. No, of course not. You see I have a contact at the CIA, and they gave me all of your files. I know every dirty detail about you." He tossed the sandwich back onto her plate.

"Ok, what do you want?" She asked, her anger rising. She was not used to taking threats so lightly, but for the sake of her new life, she had to push through it.

"Sherlock Holmes." He said, his voice dropped to a menacing growl.

"What?" Her brow furrowed, "If you want Sherlock, why go through me?"

"Simple. He cares about John Watson, John Watson cares about you." He laughed lightly.

"What do you want with Sherlock?" She asked, the anger beginning to boil, making her feel sick. She clenched her fists, realization starting to hit her.

"Nothing of your concern. It goes beyond him." He wiped his hands free of the crumbs onto her jacket, which was sitting on the table.

"You..." She looked at him, really looked at him and it dawned on her, "You're the one who put John in the fire?"

"You're a smart cookie." He said, standing.

"You're going to leave us alone. I don't care what you want Sherlock for, and I don't care what you have on me. You will not threaten my family." She stood as well, trying to appear as strong as she could in her current nauseous state.

"You're with child." He said simply, and she sucked in an unsure breath, "I wouldn't try to take a stand against me, if I were in your current position."

"Or what?" She challenged, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Steven Reynolds." He said, the name hit her like a brick.

"You can't scare me." She said, trying hard not to lose her composure, "He has no idea where I am. And wouldn't be able to find me, not unless he..." And again, she was hit with realization.

"Unless he infiltrated the CIA database? Exactly, Mrs. Watson. If you don't want him to, oh I don't know, suddenly become aware of your whereabouts, then you'll agree to help me out." He watched her facade crumble. She took a deep breath, sitting back in the booth. As tears escaped her eyes, she held her hand to her mouth, stifling a sob.

"He's the only person I've ever failed to..." She couldn't complete her sentence. She closed her eyes and tried to regain her composure.

"I know." He laughed and adjusted his jacket, "Consider this my final offer. You tell me what I need to know, and I'll let you remain hidden." She opened her eyes, grabbed her jacket and threw money onto the table. As she tugged on her coat she straightened up, looking him in the eye.

"You don't scare me. Now if you'll excuse me, I have urgent matters that need attending." She took a deep breath and turned away from the man and headed out the door.

**0101010101010101010**

"Sherlock, where did you move the tea to?" John asked his former flatmate as he was standing in the kitchen, trying to find what he asked for.

"We don't need tea right now, John! We need a case! I'm dying of boredom!" Sherlock stood from his chair and strolled to the window, rubbing his hand over his mouth, "I just need something to interest me."

"Well I'm sure you'll find something soon enough!" He replied, opening a cupboard, "Aha! Here it is!" He pulled out the box and began making himself a cuppa.

"What's Mary doing here?" Sherlock asked.

"Um... I don't know. She said she had an important meeting... She shouldn't be here." John replied, becoming puzzled.

"Yes... And why is she behaving like a... Well like a client?" Sherlock stared at the woman he'd come to know over the months since his return from the dead.

"What do you mean?"

"She's been pacing back and forth outside for the last thirty seconds, she's wringing her hands together, and she's talking to herself. Probably trying to figure out what she's going to say..." Sherlock said, and John ran to the window beside him.

"Oh no, I hope nothing's happened to the baby." John said, Mary looked up from the street and saw the two of them. They both smiled and waved and she forced a response. With a deep breath she opened the door and headed up the stairs.

"Hello Mrs. Watson." John said, smiling. He gave her a light kiss, noticing her tension.

"John." She said, she turned to the detective, "Sherlock."

"Mary... What can we help you with?"

**AND IT BEGINS! Let me know what you thiiiiiiink!**


	2. Chapter 2

**SO MUCH IDEAS! AH!**

**Oh yeah, and I forrrrgot to say... I dun own sherlock. (sad face)**

"What makes you think I need your help?" She tried, though she knew that lying would get her nowhere. Sherlock placed a chair in front of her.

"Because you were doing the client dance." Sherlock said, rolling his eyes, "Now sit, and tell us." He pointed at the chair. The three of them headed to their designated seating arrangements and waited. Mary took a deep breath, trying to hold back her tears.

"John," She said, looking at her husband, the concern on his face was heartbreaking, "I never intended for you to find out about... Well about my past." She said, his mouth opened slightly, "Don't say anything... I need to get this out." She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, when she opened them she glanced back and forth between her husband and his best friend.

"As I said, I never intended to tell you, which is awful, I know... It's just that, when I met you... You were so broken by what happened to Sherlock. You didn't need anymore danger in your life. You needed stability. You needed someone safe, and I was so in need of that too, that I became that person for you. I'm not who you think I am though..." She looked down at her hands, which she was still wringing together, she had no want or need to see John's face at the moment, "I'm something of an assassin... If that's what you would like to call it. I've had a number of jobs with the CIA and have done some free lancing as well... I stopped about five years back. It just got to be too dangerous." She reached into her pocket, removing the letter she'd received, she looked up and handed it to Sherlock, still refusing to look at her husband, who had his eyes closed and was breathing erratically.

"So, someone's threatened you?" He asked, looking over the words, landing on the name at the bottom, "C.A.M.?" He asked.

"Charles Augustus Magnussen... He's a professional pain in the arse." She said, "He told me that if I didn't deliver you to him, then he would tell an old target that I failed to take out where I am."

"Deliver me to him?" Sherlock asked, slowly, "Why does he want me?"

"I don't know... He said it goes beyond you." She answered simply, mustering up all of her courage to look at John for the first time since her confession. He'd gripped the arms of his chair and was staring straight at the floor. He noticed her looking at him and met her eyes, the anger was overwhelming.

"You were never..." He breathed, "Never going to tell me any of this?"

"I never wanted to hurt you, John." She smiled sadly, "I just knew what a life with you would be like, and I knew I could start over, have something substantial... I never thought..."

"You never thought it would come up?" John laughed, "Well of course not, because I'm a bloody idiot."

"Calm down John, to be fair, you are. And she didn't expect me to come back from the dead!" Sherlock interjected.

"Nobody asked you." John said, his face becoming serious again, "For the record, I'm not very pleased that the mother of my child is in such danger. But I'm even less pleased that the mother of my child is an ex assassin! Why me? Huh? I just attract danger. I'm like a magnet." He pushed his fist to his mouth, looking past Sherlock to the window as he tried to steady his breathing.

"I'm truly sorry, John. I may have lied to you about who I was..." Mary said, tears falling from her eyes, "But know that I lied about nothing else. I do love you, really I do. I didn't lie about wanting to spend my life with you."

"Right, of course." John spat. Sherlock closed his eyes and leaned forward and steepled his hands under his chin.

"So Magnussen... He's using you to get to me because he knows I'll do anything to make sure John is happy." Sherlock began speaking his deductions, "But he didn't expect you to refuse him. Which I'm assuming you did, or you wouldn't be here with us right now. So what does he want from me? Probably something to do with Mycroft." Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at John, who was staring at him in disbelief.

"You're seriously just going to treat this like it's any other client? You're not even the least bit shocked by this situation?" John asked, his voice raising.

"Of course I'm surprised! But I'm trying to deal with the issue, that way she remains safe."

"More importantly that the baby remains safe." Mary added, and John turned his head back to her.

"Right, because of you our baby is now in danger." He said, "Thank you so very much." He stood from his chair, grabbing his jacket on his way out the door.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock shouted.

"To clear my head!" John responded, pounding down the stairs and out the front door. He began mumbling to himself as he stormed down the street, he didn't see the men coming up behind him, he didn't see the van coming around the corner, and he most certainly didn't see the needle as it was stuck into his neck.


	3. Chapter 3

**Writing a little something before I head to work!**

"Mary, I need you to be completely honest with me... Why would a target you failed to take out want to kill you? He shouldn't even know who you are." Sherlock said to the blubbering blonde.

"I... It was a dark time in my life. I was doing a lot of free lance jobs... And I just kind of got carried away." She said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. Sherlock kept looking right at her.

"Go on. What did you do?" He spoke calmly, slowly.

"Well I couldn't find the man, he was so hard to track down. I-" She let out a small sob before sucking in a harsh breath and continuing, "I'm not proud of what I did. I used his daughter to find him... Or to draw him in, rather." She looked past Sherlock to the window behind him.

"And what exactly did you do to his daughter?" Sherlock's voice was still calm and collected, but a small tinge of dread was bubbling in his stomach, it wasn't an entirely new feeling. Just a new one to be associated with her.

"Oh god. I kidnapped her... Sent him an e-mail with a picture of her. Told him to come to a specific place... And I was going to kill him. Listen, Sherlock... This was not a good man. He was a murderer in his own right. Sold drugs, but laced them with his own special ingredient that would often end up killing the user." She took a few breaths and looked back to her hands, "I was hired by the family of one of his, well, of one of his victims. I was completely off the rails at the time, I thought I was invincible and that I couldn't be defeated. The fact that there was some note of being a savior tied in with it... Well I was unstoppable." She looked at Sherlock finally, saw a hint of recognition in his eyes.

"Steven Reynolds?" He asked, her eyes widened, "Yes, I know him. Well I know of him, I only ever bought from his employees." He hopped up from his chair, moving to the window, he watched a large black van speed off down the road before turning back to Mary, "He's dangerous, and will stop at nothing to exact revenge now that he knows where you are, I'm sure of it."

"Well we're not even sure Magnussen has told him yet!" Mary said, Sherlock laughed.

"Don't be dull, of course he has. Now we just need to calculate his next move, figure out what he's going to do... now... Where's John?" Sherlock asked, staring at the street.

"He stormed out... A few minutes ago." Mary responded, panic setting in as she looked at the detective.

"No, that's not right. He should have come back. He never leaves for that long." Sherlock shook his head and ran out of the flat, barely grabbing his jacket on his way out the door. Mary followed him as he ran up to a spot on the sidewalk a few paces away.

"What is it? Sherlock?" She asked once she caught up to him. She looked down to see a chalk outline of a body on the ground with the words, _Watson meets untimely end, unless Morstan and Holmes come to defend._

"Well that's boring. A short rhyme and we're supposed to know where he is?" Sherlock scoffed, kneeling down closer to the pavement. He ran his hand across the chalk, it came up white, "They can't have gotten far, the chalk still hasn't settled." He stood and looked around as a car pulled up next to them.

"Is this from Mycroft?" Mary asked, as the driver got out, coming around to the door and opening it.

"No... I don't think it is." Sherlock looked apologetically at Mary, "I think it's going to take us to John."

**01010101010101100110110110101010**

"Wakey wakey Doctor Watson." A voice called out to the groggy man. As he began to come to, he noticed three things. First, he was tied to a chair, second, there was a bag over his head and third, the room he was sitting in was oddly warm. He grunted as he tried to pull on the zip ties that held him to the chair, "No no no John. That's not being a good boy." The man tisked as he came up behind the doctor, leaning down next to his ear, "You're going to want to be a good boy. Especially for when your wife and boyfriend get here."

"Not gay..." He managed to murmur, the bag was ripped from his head and the lights forced him to snap his eyes shut.

"Doesn't matter, because in a few moments, he's going to be the only one you have." The man laughed and John squinted as he opened his eyes, taking in the form of the man who kidnapped him. He was thin, dirty. His shirt was ripped and while John couldn't see past his shirt, he was sure the rest of his clothes were ripped too. It was as if this man had been going off the rails for a long time, waiting patiently in the dark for this moment.

"Who are you? Why did you take me?" He asked, becoming aware of how dry his throat was.

"I didn't take you John, you were given to me. As a present, almost. You're the key to getting what I want."

"And what do you want?" John asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Your wife." He laughed, "What's she calling herself now? Mary Morstan?" His giggles echoed through the room.

"Watson. Mary Watson." John growled, the man ran to him, pulling his head back by his hair.

"No, you're wrong. That's not her name, it was never her name!" He shouted, "She's a liar, a murderer, and a liar." He hissed into the soldiers ear, causing the pit of his stomach to twist. John's head was released and it fell forward as he was still unable to control the muscles completely.

"They'll come for me, and when they do, you're going to pay." He said the threat calmly. He didn't need to make himself believe it, he knew it, he always knew it. Sherlock Holmes would not leave him to die, no, he'd come for him. And Mary too, he supposed.

"You're quite mistaken, it is she who is going to pay." The man said, and John couldn't hold his eyes open any longer as he heard the sounds of a gun being put together. A few minutes later a phone rang and he answered it. After a few words he giggled and turned to John, he bent down to meet the slumped over man face to face.

"They're here."

**I have too much fun writing insane people... I think that's a sign of something... Isn't it?**


	4. Chapter 4

"Sherlock..." Mary said to the detective as they stepped out of the car, "Whatever happens in there, save John first... I don't care what he says, save him."

"Of course." Sherlock replied, solemnly. The thought to save her first never even crossed his mind, though it should have. They each took deep breaths before heading into the building. They weren't met with armed guards or gun fire, just posted signs. Signs saying _This way_ and _Over here_ were up all over the place with arrows directing them where to go.

"I guess he's this way." Mary said, heading to the stairs.

"Really, I never would have guessed." Sherlock replied sarcastically, Mary shot him a look before they made their way up three flights of stairs. They finally reached a door, it was opened just a crack, but the warm air that was pouring out of it made the both of them uncomfortable.

"Is it hot in here, or is it just me?" Sherlock asked.

"No, it's really warm." Mary replied, pushing the door open. They saw John slumped over in a chair and ran to his side.

"John!" Mary shouted, running behind his chair to cut open the zip ties. Sherlock lifted his friends head, meeting his eyes he knew instantly that he was terrified, but trying very hard not to show it.

"Welcome to my humble abode!" A voice shouted, they all looked, John knew what was coming, Sherlock could guess and Mary froze.

"Steven Reynolds, I presume?" Sherlock asked, Mary still had her back to him, refusing to turn.

"Well aren't you going to look at me... Mary?" He hissed her name and she turned slowly, her mouth opening when she saw him.

"You've certainly come undone." She noted.

"Thanks to you." He said matter of factly.

"It was an accident, I never meant for it to happen." She said, her breathing getting heavier.

"You don't kidnap and kill a man's daughter on accident!" He shouted, John stumbled a bit. Sherlock struggled to keep him on his feet, and ended up having to hold him up under both of his arms, they would look to any outsiders as if they were hugging.

"She... She tried to run. I grabbed her, hit her... But it was too hard, I never meant..."

"I know the story! But you ruined my life! You should have killed me!" He began laughing, "Instead I ended up living on the streets, in the cold. Always in the cold."

"I'm sorry." She whimpered, looking back at John. She grabbed him from Sherlock and he was able to find his footing as he hugged her, "I'm so sorry John. I love you so much." She knew what was about to happen, so did he and so did Sherlock.

"It's ok." He said, "I understand why you lied..." She met his eyes, surprise flooding her face.

"You forgive me?"

"Of course not." He said, what small smile she had faded, "But I still love you." He looked past her at the snickering mad man.

"How sweet." He said, "Do you even know all that she's done! The people she's killed! She doesn't deserve forgiveness, or to be loved! She deserves death!" He shouted, cocking the hammer on his gun, aiming and firing in a matter of seconds before anyone had a chance to react. John felt Mary stumble forward slightly, her face becoming pained and surprised.

"John!" She muttered and Sherlock shouted at the same time. Sherlock ran to the man and hit him, knocking him unconscious. John sunk to the ground, his wife in his arms. She reached into her pocket before taking his hand into her own.

"I'm sorry." She said again, tears falling and blood soaking into John's jeans.

"It's ok." He muttered into her ear, over and over. He kissed her cheek as she smiled softly, and tears began to fall from his eyes. Sherlock watched his best friend rock his dying wife. Mary drew in a sharp breath, coughing a bit.

"It will be." She whispered.

"What?" He asked.

"You'll be ok." She assured him, squeezing his hand and he looked at her, confused and her eyes moved quickly to Sherlock, John followed her gaze, "He'll make sure of it."

"Mary." He said, her eyes snapped back to meet his, "I do love you." She smiled painfully.

"John..." She gasped, confusion flooding her face, "John?" She whispered, the life leaving her body.

"Mary!" He shouted, shaking her, "Mary Watson, you wake up, now!" He commanded, her hand dropped from his, he looked in it, noticing the flash drive with the letters A.G.R.A. on it. As he struggled to stifle the sobs pouring from his mouth, he lowered his wife to the ground. Sherlock watched in horror, he had sunken to his knees and he felt a wetness on his cheeks.

John laughed slightly, leaning over her body, his fists pressed into the ground as he tried to gain control of his breathing.

"John?" Sherlock asked.

"No, shut up..." He said, looking up at his best friend and the man lying on the ground behind him. John narrowed his eyes in determination as he took a deep breath and rose to his feet. He slowly stalked over to the unconscious killer and picked up the gun, aiming it at the mans head.

"No, John... Don't." Sherlock said.

"He just killed my wife... My unborn child." John breathed, the anger so apparent, it almost made Sherlock stand down, almost, "Why shouldn't he die?"

"Because he's not to blame."

"If he's not then who is!" John shouted, meeting Sherlocks eyes, they were still blue, but the hate was filling them.

"Magnussen." Sherlock said calmly.

"Alright." John said, kicking the man on the floor in the ribs once before exiting the room, "Let's go get him."

**OOOH! Angry John! Vengeful John!**

**Kind of uncertain about writing sad death scenes... I tried! I had Moulin Rouge on my mind. Ha!**


	5. Chapter 5

**There were so many feels in the last one... There's even more in this one! YAY FOR FEELS!**

"I've called Lestrade... He's on his way to arrest Steven Reynolds right now, I also told him about Mary." Sherlock said to his friend as he climbed into the cab. He gave the cabbie instructions before John got in.

"Good. Now where can we find this Charles Augustus Magnussen?" John hissed, clenching and un clenching his fists.

"It would be nearly impossible to access him at home, so... His office." Sherlock said, pulling out a key card.

"How on earth did you get that?" He asked.

"Janine."

"Janine? Mary's friend Janine?"

"Yes. We've been... Dating." He said the last word as if he was annoyed.

"You... Dated someone?" John asked, a small smile forming on his face.

"Yes. Only to get this. I've known about Charles Augustus Magnussen for a while now." Sherlock clarified, for some reason he didn't want John to think he'd abandoned him for a relationship.

"You knew about Magnussen?" John shouted, Sherlock shushed him, "Why didn't you inform me?"

"I didn't know about his connection to Mary until she told me... I've been working on this case since the wedding... When I left early that night a client came to me as soon as I returned to Baker Street and she told me about him. I've been trying to figure out a way to get his attention, but apparently he was also trying to get mine." Sherlock said, tapping his fingers to his mouth. The cab pulled up outside of 221b and Sherlock got out.

"Why are we here?" John asked, tossing money at the cabbie and getting out.

"Because we need to prepare, we can't just go in blind." Sherlock said, heading in the door.

"No, we need to go now. Before he hears that she's dead." John hesitated before walking into the flat, but followed Sherlock anyway. They walked up the stairs and into the living room to find they had a visitor.

"Welcome home." He said.

"Magnussen." Sherlock growled, John took a deep breath, trying to control his rage.

"Yes, so you know who I am, good." He smiled, looking up from the book he was reading. John looked around, trying to see if he had protection, "I'm here alone, Dr. Watson." He said.

"Why are you here?" Sherlock asked.

"To strike up a deal, of course. You have something that I want."

"Which is?"

"Your brother."

"If you want his brother, I assure you, just head to his office and ask him to dinner. I have a feeling he'd oblige." John said, Magnussen laughed.

"You know what I mean. So I came here, expecting to catch you alone, but I have a feeling you won't be alone very much anymore." He said, setting the book down and crossing his legs, "Have a seat." He motioned to John's chair, and Sherlock went to it. John shook his head and turned away, he stomped into Sherlock's room.

"John, where are you going?" Sherlock shouted, but he already knew what John would be looking for: A gun. He was thankful he didn't have one.

John quickly opened all of Sherlock's drawers, searching through all the clothes, he opened the wardrobe and tried his best to go through all of the clothes without messing them up too badly. Why he did that, he had no idea. Then he looked to Sherlock's night stand.

"No, you wouldn't be so boring." John whispered to himself and opened the top drawer, the gun was sitting plainly, a loaded magazine right next to it. John laughed to himself and picked it up, he slid the mag into place and cocked it back. He was ready for war.

"Your flatmate is very rude." Magnussen said.

"He's not my flatmate anymore." Sherlock replied.

"I have a feeling he will be once again, don't you fret." He said to Sherlock as John came running from the room, gun in hand, "Well this is quite the twist, isn't it."

"Where did you get that?" Sherlock asked, panic began setting into his gut.

"Your room, top drawer of your night stand." John said plainly walking to Magnussen, putting the gun to his head.

"I don't have a gun..." Sherlock said and Magnussen laughed, "You put it in there, why?"

"Obviously he wants to die, Sherlock. Or he wouldn't be here."

"Do I want to die, Dr. Watson, or do I simply want you to get caught trying to kill me?" He began laughing harder as helicopter lights shone through the window.

"John, put it down." Sherlock said, "You don't want to ruin your life for him." Sherlock stood from his chair and began walking over to him.

"My life is already ruined, what more will this do?" John began squeezing the trigger.

"Do you think this is what Mary would have wanted for you?" Sherlock said, hoping her name would change his mind.

"Mary..." John said, smiling, "The Mary we knew, no. The Mary with the secret past, well she probably would have done this herself." He gave Sherlock one last look before the sound of gun fire filled the room.

**I just thought it'd be interesting to have the roles reversed there with the who kills Magnussen thing. But do you like my allusion to Janine. I hated the Janine thing. Just so you know. Absolutely despised it. It made me very happy when they revealed it wasn't a real relationship, that he was only using her. Seriously. **

**Anywho, there's probably only going to be like 2 more chapters... Then I'll write other things. Still in the same story line though. [=**


	6. Chapter 6

As Sherlock stood on the tarmac watching the black car pull up, he tried to think of something to say. The car stopped and John got out, meeting his friends eyes.

"Give us a moment Mycroft." His brother simply rolled his eyes and with one quick glance at the doctor he walked away, leaving the two friends alone by the small plane.

"You know..." John began, "You didn't have to take the fall for me."

"Of course I did. You would have ended up in jail. I on the other hand..."

"Get exiled? Sent to your death?" John was very clearly not happy.

"Precisely." Sherlock replied, looking down, "You'll be better off without me around to get you into trouble." John let out a breathy laugh.

"You can't really believe that." John stared at his friend, "I've only just got you back. Now I have to be without you again... It's really just not fair."

"I know, I'm sorry." Sherlock said, really meaning it.

"I'm sorry too... Well, no I'm really not sorry for what I did. Only that you felt the need to protect me."

"You're the only person I've ever bothered protecting. You should know that by now." Sherlock stared down at his feet. The need to say something deep and meaningful crossed his mind. He furrowed his brow in confusion, because what it was he wanted to say... Well he honestly didn't know.

"I haven't the slightest idea as to what else I want to say..." John said, almost as if he could hear Sherlock's thoughts.

"John... There is something I should say, I've meant to say, always... And I never have." Sherlock's mouth moved quicker than his mind, he struggled to catch up, "Since it's unlikely we'll ever meet again, I might as well say it now." He thought for a moment, and watched as John tensed. He wasn't sure what was crossing his mind, or John's, and he didn't want to delve deeper into those thoughts, not now.

"You're my best friend, John Watson," He said, and watched the soldier release all his tension and a soft smile grew on his face, "And if you had taken the fall for something I coaxed you into, well I'd have never forgiven myself. And I suppose this is just the natural order of things isn't it? Me having to leave to keep you safe. I guess in the end it just makes sense." Sherlock half smiled, he stuck his hand out and John laughed, looking over at Mycroft who was trying to look like he wasn't eavesdropping. John straightened up and sniffed before taking the detective's hand.

"I don't know what I'm going to do without you." He admitted, not wanting to let go.

"You'll figure it out." Sherlock said, looking down at their joined hands and giving his friends hand a reassuring squeeze before relinquishing his grip. Sherlock turned to head up the stairs of the plane when Mycroft's phone rang.

"But that's impossible!" He shouted, running to the stairs.

"Sherlock." He said, his eyes wide, panicked.

"What?" Sherlock replied, annoyed, "Would you let me go into exile in peace!" He turned and looked at his brother.

"Oh god, what is it?" John asked, noticing the sweat breaking out on Mycroft's brow.

"He's back." Mycroft said.

"Who? Who's back?" Sherlock walked back down the stairs as his brother pulled up a video feed on his mobile. John looked first.

"Christ... How?" He asked, resting his hand on his forehead.

"For the love of... Who is it?" Sherlock inquired, grabbing the phone only to nearly drop it as he watched the footage of the video. He replayed it from the beginning, listening to the voice over and over.

"_Did you miss me_?

**These last 2 are shorties!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Epilogue**

He watched video footage from inside Baker Street. A camera no one knew was there. He laughed as he saw John Watson hold the gun to poor old Magnussen's head. Slightly shocked to see that he actually fired it, but amused none the less.

It surprised him not in the slightest when Sherlock grabbed the fun from the frozen doctor and wiped the prints off of it. He fired a shot in to the wall... Undoubtedly to make sure his hand was covered in residue.

"Oh Sherlock, you sly dog." The man said, tapping out a number of beats onto the table in front of him. He watched as Sherlock pushed John into his chair, complaining about how his own would have to be cleaned.

Then the police started filling into the flat, led by Mycroft. They dropped Sherlock to his knees, cuffing him and the man let out a giggle. He leaned into the screen to stare at John Watson who was staring blankly at the lifeless body of Charles Augustus Magnussen.

"Johnny boy, you've killed before... What's new about this one?" He asked aloud, though none of his employees were around currently, "Maybe you're not so ordinary." He laughed.

"And Sherlock sure loves you." He noted as he began to formulate a plan. He then called in the camera crew and the techies.

"Time to get the show on the road boys! I've got my Sunday best on and my hair is slicked back! Time to make a masterpiece!" They set up the camera as he stood in place, "Oh! I'll turn for dramatic effect, they'll love it!" He loosened his neck and cracked his knuckles, preparing for his comeback.

"Ok, 3...2...1...Go" The camera man counted him down.

He turned and smirked slightly into the camera before letting his face fall flat. He knew he'd be addressing the whole of London, but he knew who he was really talking to. He knew who he really wanted to ask.

"_Did you miss_ _me_?"_ Sherlock_. He finished in his mind. The camera shut off and he closed his eyes, imagining his reunion with the detective.

"Oh it will be beautiful." Moriarty smirked and opened his eyes, "Get me a man... With blonde hair and a tan. It's time to show Sherlock Holmes what life with out his precious John Watson will be like." He muttered to himself, sitting back at his desk, observing John who was still in his chair in 221b. He laughed, touching the screen lightly, trying to rub out the image of the soldier.

"Oh yes, the game is on."

**I just love Moriarty. And if ya read my other story then you know, I just wanted to give a little lead into it... If you didn't, well I won't spoil it.**

**You know what's odd... Frank-n-furter was making himself a John Watson... Ha! If you guys got my little rocky horror line. **

**ok, byyeee! I'll start writing my sequel to Of Doctor's and Detective's tomorrow!**


End file.
